


drown.

by seekrest



Series: febuwhump 2020. [22]
Category: Bridge to Terabithia (2007), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: (yeah i know), Alternate Universe - No Powers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Michelle Jones Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Young Love, inspired by Bridge to Terabithia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 08:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22847245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: "I can't tell you what to do with your life kid, but I can tell you this." He ducks his head down, staring meaningfully into her eyes. "Your mom, your dad... they don't get to live the rest of your life."“That's easy for you to say, Mr. Stark." Michelle says, as he just laughs again, throwing his hands up."Yeah what do I know? Just a physics teacher past his prime. But I mean it, kid. With your brains and your skill, I think you got what it takes to go far."Mr. Stark was right, Michelle thought - she wouldn't be stuck in this small town forever - not if she had anything to do about it - tapping her pencil absentmindedly against the sketchpad only to look up and see Peter Parker staring at her.—A Bridge to Terabithia AU
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: febuwhump 2020. [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619581
Comments: 46
Kudos: 110





	drown.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy last week of febuwhump! I cannot believe we’re almost to the end. 
> 
> This is also my 100th fic which is just amazingly on brand™️ since it’s an AU of a story that wrecked me when I was young and combines all the things I love: love, loss and finding hope again. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

“Have you seen what the Parkers were up to today?” Michelle hears her father ask, vaguely paying attention as she continues to sketch on the couch. 

“Don’t you start getting involved in the neighbor’s business like you usually do.” Her mother chimed in as she brought in the laundry, Michelle watching out of the corner of her eye as he wipes his hands clean on his shirt from the kitchen sink, sitting down on the chair.

Her mother moves the basket towards the living room, waving at Michelle. “Come and fold this.” 

“Leave her alone, Elaine. She’s working on her art.” Her father jokes, Michelle smiling at him only to see the frown out of the corner of her mother’s eye. 

“What she needs to work on is homework. I don’t know how you expect to ever get a job when all you ever do is mess around with that nonsense.” 

Michelle bites her tongue, holding her pencil tighter. “What if I want to do  _ this _ as a job?” 

Her mother shrugs, dismissive in the way she always was - something that shouldn’t hurt as much as it does by now - before saying, “The only thing you’ll be doing is working unless you go to college, and you won’t get into college if you don’t make good enough grades to get there. Drawing little stick figures won’t take you anywhere worth being. Now,” she snaps her fingers, impatient and demanding as she continues, “fold these.” 

Michelle sighs, putting the pencil and sketch pad down and moving to fold the laundry. 

It wasn’t about the chores, it never was - but the way her mother was so casually dismissive about something she clearly loved, something that she had devoted years and years to perfecting as being nothing more than a time waster always aggravated her - counting down the days until she turned eighteen and could leave her small town behind. 

To move to New York City - her far off dreams of living and working there always running in the back of her mind. 

But Michelle was only sixteen, barely starting her junior year and still months away from applying anywhere even remotely close to the kind of life she wanted. 

Instead, she bites her tongue and gets to work under her mother’s watchful eye, only satisfied once Michelle had folded a few t-shirts before nodding and turning back to her father. 

“What  _ was _ that Parker woman doing today?” Her mother asked, Michelle holding her tongue while her father laughed. 

“I knew you cared, Elaine.” 

They start to go back and forth but Michelle tries to think about anything else but being there in her family’s living room as they gossiped about the Parker family. 

* * *

Michelle met the Parker family - a woman named May Parker that Michelle had overheard her mother call a hippie and other less than favorable terms and her nephew Peter - the day they moved in, three years ago.

They had moved to their small town from Queens, Michelle being immediately intrigued by anyone who came from the city that had captured her heart since she was a little girl. Why they moved was originally a mystery to the people at school, Peter Parker being quiet and keeping to himself at their small junior high and being even more to himself when they made the move to high school.

Michelle didn't really care for the rumors that swirled around them - that their family was in witness protection, that Peter was the secret love child of some billionaire who couldn't care for him - all ridiculous when Michelle knew the truth, something that was a lot more simple and yet more sad.

She'd overheard about what happened to his uncle in so many words from her mother's gossip over the phone, wondering on more than one occasion why the superficial hospitality that her mother insisted on showing everyone within a thirty-mile radius was somehow always ignored for the Parker family.

Michelle didn't really talk to Peter Parker but for his part, neither did he - keeping to himself, doing his homework and always lost in his own little world - the rest of the kids at school assuming that he thought he was better than everyone else because he was from the 'big city'.

Whether that was true or not, Michelle didn't know - entirely too focused on her own hopes and dreams to really pay any attention to Peter Parker.

That changed, as things usually did - because of Mr. Stark.

* * *

"Is the muse working against you today, Ms. Jones?"

Michelle glances up from her sketchpad, sitting outside with her half-eaten lunch on the table next to her - seeing the kind smile of her physics teacher looking back at her.

"Hey Mr. Stark." Michelle says, shifting the sketchpad so he can see what she's working on - a still life of the tree that stood in the middle of the courtyard. It was intricate and the shading had taken hours but Michelle still wasn't happy with it, feeling like it was missing something.

"I don't know what's wrong with it."

Mr. Stark purses his lips, Michelle watching him intently as he studied the picture - almost holding her breath in anticipation.

The rumors that revolved around the Parker family didn't compare to the ones that seemed to follow after Tony Stark - the enigma of a man who strolled into town some twenty years ago in a suit more expensive than some people's houses and so brilliant that how and why he ended up being a physics teacher, no one could ever guess.

But for all his supposed mystery, Mr. Stark was always nice to her - encouraging her in her art in a way that even her father didn't, not so subtle nudging that she could pursue an art degree - something Michelle could never consider possible, especially for what it would mean for her future.

Michelle didn't even know if she was good enough, and if she was - it wasn't like the employment rate for artists was very high.

For as much as she disliked her mother, some lessons that she'd been taught could never be unlearned.

"I wouldn't say anything's wrong with it," Mr. Stark begins, hearing the 'but' in his tone before he even says it, " _ but _ it doesn't seem like you really believe in it. I was under the impression that you were more interested in portraits."

Michelle shrugged, erasing some of the line work that she'd just finished as she sighs. "I guess, I don't know. I’ve never tried."

"Portrait or not, you know there's a student exhibit contest at the Guggenheim," He says, Michelle glancing back up at him to see his eyebrow raise. "If you put a portfolio together, I could call up some old contacts. See if--"

Michelle laughs, a sharp almost obnoxious sound. "That's-- that's never gonna happen, Mr. Stark."

Mr. Stark’s eyebrows furrow, Michelle already anticipating his words for how often they've had this conversation in different ways. "Why not, kid? You're good at it and if that's what you want to do then--"

"Doesn't matter what I want." Michelle mutters, wincing when she realizes that she'd allowed the words to leave her mouth.

"Is this about your mother?" Mr. Stark asks, his voice turning towards the gentle tone that he always seemed to take with her when referring to her parents.

Michelle doesn't answer but he seems to take that as a response anyway, sighing as he folds his arms - Michelle watching as he shook his head.

"I can't tell you what to do with your life kid, but I can tell you this." He ducks his head down, staring meaningfully into her eyes. "Your mom, your dad... they don't get to live the rest of your life."

"No but they pay for my life  _ now _ ." Michelle says back, the smirk on his face wide as he laughs.

"They do." His face transforms into something more serious, a faraway look in his eyes. "But someday they won't. And when that happens, when it's just you... you gotta decide what kind of life you want to live."

"That's easy for you to say, Mr. Stark." Michelle says, even if she doesn't believe her own words - getting the impression that he seems to understand what she's going through in a way that she hadn't considered before.

But he just laughs again, throwing his hands up. "Yeah what do I know? Just a physics teacher past his prime."

He smiles back at her once more before saying, "But I mean it, kid. With your brains and your skill, I think you got what it takes to go far."

Mr. Stark lets the words sit between them for a moment before nodding, going to leave when Michelle calls out, "When's the contest deadline?"

He turns back around, shrugging. "Can't do everything for you, kid. Look it up."

Michelle rolls her eyes as he laughs and turns back to the hallway, knowing he’s joking as she shakes her head and brings her attention back to the sketch in front of her.

It was a risk, applying for the contest - if only because it would put her dreams to the test in a way that Michelle both did and didn't want to know the truth about.

But Mr. Stark was right, Michelle wouldn't be stuck in this small town forever - not if she had anything to do about it - tapping her pencil absentmindedly against the sketchpad only to look up and see Peter Parker staring at her.

He seems to realize he's been caught, smiling awkwardly at her before turning his attention back to his laptop, Michelle raising an eyebrow as she looks back at him - seeing the way his cheeks flush from where she was sitting.

Before Michelle gets the chance to say anything, the bell rings - glancing up and then towards her sketchpad. When she's finally half-packed up, grabbing the sandwich she'd made earlier this morning - she looks over to where Peter was only to see that he's gone, turning around slightly to find that she's alone in the courtyard.

Michelle just pushes it away, stuffing the remainder of the sandwich in her mouth as she packs up the rest of her things - daydreaming about winning the contest and what a life in the city, a life that  _ she _ wanted, would really look like.

* * *

"So, you like to draw?"

Michelle blinks down at her sketchpad before shifting her attention upwards - Peter Parker's smiling face looking back at her as he adjusts his backpack strap.

She's sitting in the library, at the circulation desk - a part-time job that would be more boring if it wasn't for the amount of uninterrupted time it gave her to work on her homework or her art.

_ Mostly uninterrupted _ , Michelle thinks as Peter shifts his weight back and forth - still smiling at her when she realizes that she's expected to answer.

"Yeah. So you like to eavesdrop?"

Peter's cheeks flush again, glancing away and then back to her. "Yeah, sorry. I just-- I always see you doing something in your notebook. I didn't realize--"

"It's fine," Michelle says dismissing it off-hand as she brings her attention back to the sketchpad, frowning that what she was working on had smudged slightly. "It's a free country."

"My uncle used to draw." Peter says, Michelle glancing back up and seeing the smile on his face, blinking a little in surprise.

Her and Peter hadn't really shared more than a few words with each other in the three years since he'd moved to their little small town, and yet now - for reasons she couldn't even begin to explain - he wanted to talk to her, opening up the conversation with talking about his uncle.

“I’m more into photography,” he rushes forward, seemingly taking her silence as a sign to continue, bringing his voice down when one of the librarians from across the room loudly shushes him. “It’s a lot of fun, you know to--”

“Why are you telling me this?” Michelle asks, inwardly wincing when she sees how much Peter’s face falls - shaking her head, “I mean, it’s just-- it’s kind of random.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, scratching the back of his neck as she sheepishly grins. “Yeah, I know but um, I was talking to Mr. Stark the other day,”  _ Figures,  _ Michelle thinks, “And he mentioned that you like art too and I don’t know.”

Peter himself doesn’t even seem to have an answer for why he started to talk to her, watching in real-time as his face falls before he says, “I just thought it was cool, you know. There’s not really a lot of us here.”

“Us?” Michelle asks, raising an eyebrow as Peter grins. 

“You know, artists. Midtown’s not really…” Peter trails off but Michelle gets his meaning, knowing it’s more than just the school and the whole town - everyone seemingly focused on what you could get out of the world rather than what you could put in. 

Michelle loved school, always had in a nerdy way that she’d never admit to anyone - the reason why Mr. Stark was her favorite teacher not just because of his encouragement of her art but his way of teaching a fascinating subject made even more interesting when he described it. 

But while school and her homework was her way of learning how to live in the world, art was her way of helping her feel like life was actually worth living - something that she hadn’t really been able to explain with anyone else. 

Yet from the look in Peter’s eyes, it seems he felt it too - watching as she shrugs before saying, “Anyway, I just thought it was cool. Sorry though, for eavesdropping.”

“It’s fine. Really,” Michelle says, whispering when the librarian glares at her. “What kind of photography are you into?” 

Peter’s eyes lit up, wondering to herself if anyone had ever asked him that - knowing that for as much as she stayed away from the idiots in their grade that Peter was almost a pariah for the rumors that still hovered over him. 

“All kinds. I like playing with open spaces but also like, seeing things in motion. I don’t know, like capturing how everything works together and how people or things can go from one place to another? It’s awesome, I’d think you’d like it.”

Michelle just nods. “That sounds cool.” 

“Yeah.” Peter says, a rush of air leaving him before they fall into an awkward silence - Michelle’s eyes going elsewhere before she thinks to speak, seemingly at the same time he does.

“So do you want to--”

“Would you like to--”

Peter smiles, nodding towards her. “You first.” 

Michelle nods her head towards the librarian, knowing she was only moments away from coming over to her and telling her that she was paid to work, not to socialize when she says, “I can’t really talk now, but you can tell me more about it later. If you want.”

Peter’s cheeks flush again, from embarrassment she’s sure when he nods his head so hard that he looks like a bobblehead. “Yeah, yeah that’s-- I was actually gonna ask if you maybe wanted to see something?” 

The librarian is making a beeline towards the desk now, Michelle looking over to her and to Peter when he quickly whispers, “Meet me outside your house after school okay?”

Michelle only gets the chance to nod once before he’s gone, moments before the librarian reaches the desk with a scowl on her face.

“Do we have a problem, Ms. Jones?” She asks, whispering so loudly that Michelle’s sure it’s her version of a shout.

“Nope.” Michelle smiles sweetly, watching in glee as her eyes narrow. 

“We don’t have a problem at all.”

* * *

“You know, if this is your way of trying to murder me, you could’ve just forced me to listen to Flash Thompson’s terrible rapping.” 

Peter laughs, glancing over his shoulder as he continues to walk forward. “I don’t think murdering you would help my reputation at school.”

Michelle grins, Peter turning his attention back to the wooden path in front of them, being careful to avoid an unruly tree root as she says, “Didn’t think you cared so much, Parker.”

“I don’t.” Peter answers, Michelle getting the distinct impression that he meant it - following behind him in the forest. 

When he had first told her he had a secret hideaway in the middle of the woods by their house that he wanted to show her, Michelle had balked - the idea of doing any kind of physical activity being the exact kind of thing she’d spent a lifetime avoiding. That and the idea of going anywhere alone with a teenage boy seemed to be a recipe for the kind of rumors that she also couldn’t bear to have following her.

Michelle didn’t care about her reputation but she knew her mother did, not wanting anything to cause anything else that would make her have to hear yet another lecture. 

But Peter had looked and sounded sincere, going against her better judgement to follow him out to someplace deep in the woods that she didn’t know. Something that now Michelle was starting to regret. 

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” She asks, moving a branch out of the way as Peter’s laughter rings out. 

“Yeah, been coming out here since we moved out here.” He says, stopping suddenly until Michelle looks up and her eyes widen in surprise.

There in the middle of the forest, she could see it - an old treehouse, looking straight out of a fairytale - complete with a rope and wooden ladder and the river that led out to their houses looping around the edges. 

“What do you think?” Peter asks, Michelle’s eyes still transfixed on the treehouse. 

She had no idea how it got there, who would build it or even how Peter had found it - a million questions running through her mind but finding that she can’t even begin to ask any of them, completely enthralled by a place that looked like it had been plucked out of the books she used to read when she was younger.

Books of far off magical places and of wonder, books filled with adventures and happy endings - all things that Michelle had become far too cynical to believe in anymore.

She turns to look at Peter, only to see that he’s staring at her with the same expression that he’d had on his face when she’d caught him staring at her in the courtyard - seemingly feeling more bold now that they weren’t in school or around anyone else. 

“It’s beautiful.” Michelle says, holding his gaze - watching the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. 

“I knew you’d like it. Come on, I wanna show you something.” He walked past her, playfully grabbing at the rope as she smirked.

“There’s no way in hell I’m using that thing. How old is it anyway?” 

Peter laughs, rolling his eyes - Michelle wondering if there was something about the forest air that made his whole presence seem lighter as he shook his head. “Been coming out here for years and never had a problem. Come on Michelle, it’ll be fun.” 

Michelle smiles, the way he smiles back at her igniting something in the pit of her stomach - a feeling that she couldn’t put a name to and hadn’t before, swallowing it down as best she can before saying, “Whatever you say, Parker.”

* * *

“Michelle.  _ Michelle _ .” 

She turns her head, seeing the disapproving look on her mother’s face and the curious one on her father’s. “What’s going on in that head of yours? I’ve asked you three times about how that chem exam went.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Michelle says, moving some of the green beans on her plate. “You know how it is.” 

“I don’t. You’ve been spending all your time with that Parker boy lately. He better not be messing with your studies.”

“He’s not, mom.” She sighs. 

Her mother’s eyes narrow, going to say something before her father cuts in, “Did I tell you what happened with Vanko at work today? It was the craziest thing.”

Her mother must see through the distraction but allows it, Michelle thankful as she brings her attention back to her plate of food - her attention shifting back to her daydreams. 

It was hard to believe that it had only been a few months since her and Peter started to hang out, the day in the forest being the start of a friendship that Michelle wasn’t sure how she had ever lived without. 

They’d been neighbors for years, had been in all the same classes since eighth grade - and yet Michelle felt for the first time like she was actually getting to know who Peter Parker was.

He was funny, kind - nothing like the reputation that the kids at school had seemingly built up about him, the two of them laughing at how small-minded people were in their small town. 

Michelle let her mind drift to some of their earlier conversations, when Peter would tell her all about the city that had been his home for years - about the past tragedies in his life and how the murder of his uncle had been his aunt’s final straw about living in the city.

She couldn't imagine how someone could have faced so much tragedy and wasn’t a complete mess, though from looking at his pictures - Michelle could see that Peter carried his hurts and channeled it into his art, not so dissimilar to how she did. 

The first day, he’d showed her the treehouse and all his photography, saying that the quiet gave him time to think and dream - something that Michelle could understand. 

Going to the treehouse after school became an everyday thing, even spending most of her weekend with him just dreaming - about the world, about their dreams, talking about everything and nothing.

Mr. Stark seemed thrilled with their hanging out more, both he and Peter seemingly tag-teaming against her to submit her art for the student exhibit, even if Michelle had argued that Peter could do the same. 

“It’s different, MJ.” He’d said, the nickname he’d given her out of nowhere one of their visits to the treehouse sending a shot of warmth through her heart - ignoring Mr. Stark’s mischievous gleam in his eye. “Besides, Mr. Stark said that you had a really good piece you wanted to submit?”

Michelle sent him a traitorous look, only for the man to look at her innocently - putting his hands up before saying, “Only telling the truth, kid.” He turns to Peter before saying, “But Michelle here’s right, you should submit your work too.” 

Peter had shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe. But I still think MJ’s would win.” 

Michelle couldn’t help the smile on her face, Mr. Stark all but beaming at her - wondering when the hell the two of them got so chummy but pushing it down. 

In the end, they both had submitted their work. And in the end, Peter was right.

Michelle had won. 

She pushed the same green bean on her plate over and over, wondering how she could successfully disappear for a day without causing any kind of alarm.

She didn’t need any kind of permission slip and Mr. Stark had graciously offered to pay her way to the city - money that she wasn’t sure how a high school physics teacher could have - but that wasn’t the point.

Her parents weren’t very involved but they would still notice if she was gone for an entire day, her foot absentmindedly tapping against the floor.

She debated with herself while they continued to chatter, wondering if she should say something - only to decide at the last minute not to, stabbing the one green bean she’d rolled over and over on her fork before popping it into her mouth. 

Mr. Stark was right, her parents’ opinion didn’t matter - infinitely more concerned about how Peter was feeling, even if she knew already from the many times he told her that he didn’t care that he hadn’t won. 

“You deserve it, MJ.” He’d said, eyes glancing around the treehouse - pieces of her own art and his photographs all mixed in.

Michelle had been overwhelmed when she saw all the pictures, Peter completely underselling his talent when he’d first told her about what he liked to see. 

It was like he was able to capture life in motion in a way that she hadn’t seen before, the exact kind of feeling she tried to capture in her own drawings. 

“So do you.” She’d said, seeing the smile on his face grow wider - the sunlight reflecting off his face, illuminating the light smatter of freckles that in any other light, she wouldn’t have seen.

It was nice being around him, nice to finally have a friend - chewing the inside of her cheek at the realization of how much she enjoyed being around him. 

Being sixteen and in a glorified treehouse was childish - yet being around Peter made her forget her parents or the kids at school, made her forget about anything about her dreams - regaling her with stories about the city that he grew up in and that even now, he missed. 

Michelle made a mental note to herself, to pick up something for him in the city before she left - smiling at the memory of saying goodbye to each other today, the storm that had caught them by surprise causing her hair to frizz and their clothes to get soaked. 

They’d laughed as they ran to their respective houses, Michelle watching as Peter turned - waving at her before he smiled.

As excited as she was to have won the contest, excited at the possibility of what this could mean for her future - Michelle couldn’t help the feeling stirring in her gut at the look on Peter’s face, wondering if maybe there was room in her daydreams of the future to include him.

To go to college together in the city, for Peter to actually show her all the places that he’d spent months talking to her about, to get to live out the kind of life she’d always wanted but now - with the knowledge that she’d have a friend by her side.

Michelle didn’t want to admit that the things she’d started to feel for Peter were more than friendly, swallowing down her latent crush as being nothing more than excitement and nerves about tomorrow. 

It was foolish, quickly shaking her head as she took a sip of her drink - bringing herself back to the present and of the reality of what the trip to the city would be.

It was an honor to be selected, an honor that her parents wouldn’t understand but that Mr. Stark and Peter absolutely did.

She wasn’t looking forward to the lecture she’d get when her parents found out she skipped school for her art but Michelle didn’t care.

She was ready for the future, ready for the rest of her life.

And even if her parents didn’t want to understand, she was glad that Peter would be excited for her - ready and waiting to hear all about it - when she came back.

* * *

“This is truly an amazing work, Ms. Jones.” The curator said, Michelle bursting with pride as she put her hand to her chin.

“Is this inspired from life?” She asked, Michelle nodding as she folded her hands together - trying to contain her nerves.

“It is, but of course the fantasy element plays a part.” She says, watching as she continues to nod. “I’m really glad to hear that you enjoy it.”

She laughs, a kind smile on her face as she turns to her. “I more than  _ enjoy  _ it, Ms. Jones. Truly incredible work, I’m very glad Tony sent it to me.”

“Thank you, Ms. Potts.” Michelle says in return, the smile on her face growing wider as she points to the piece.

“The coloring on the house is exquisite, particularly how it blends in and almost reflects with the water blow. And the silhouette in the window? Truly wonderful.”

Michelle’s attention turns from the curator and towards her piece, the familiar warmth in her chest anytime she saw it now filling her up from the inside out.

The tree that she’d originally sketched in the courtyard had been transformed and reworked, now being the most accurate depiction of the treehouse that for anyone who had seen it - would immediately know what it was.

But there  _ was _ something magical about it, playing around with her style and the whole work pouring out of her in a matter of hours - something that she’d never done before, only putting finishing touches just before she gave it to Mr. Stark to send off.

The lake, the treehouse - all of it was there, putting her own tribute to the boy who had brought her to the place that had felt more like home than her house ever had in the window - forbidding Peter from ever seeing it.

“I’ll have to see it someday.” He’d joked when she handed it off to Mr. Stark in a plain vanilla envelope, rolling her eyes as she’d replied, “Not if I can help it.” 

She’d turned to Mr. Stark then, eyes firm. “Don’t you dare show it to him.”

He had smiled and winked before saying, “Wouldn't dream of it, kid.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter had exclaimed, making the two of them laugh - Michelle’s heart racing at the memory.

Ms. Potts goes to say something more only for her phone to ring, giving an apologetic glance to Michelle as she says, “Sorry, might be a client.”

“It’s okay.” Michelle says, turning her attention back to the work in front of her as she answered the phone.

Ms. Potts had been so nice to her and actually being there, seeing people praise her work had been indescribable - but Michelle was almost vibrating with anticipation of wanting to tell Peter about it all, feeling excited for not just about the day but the chance to actually have someone to share it with. 

Michelle’s still smiling, lost in her thoughts when she hears Ms. Potts’ sharp inhale, glancing at her when she puts a hand to her shoulder.

“Do your parents not know you’re here?” She asks, Michelle suddenly feeling on the spot - not wanting to lie to her but also wincing at the realization that both her and Mr. Stark had clearly not told her the whole truth about how she’d come to the city.

“Tony, I can’t believe you would—“ Ms. Potts says before closing her eyes, a firm expression on her face as she sighs and opens them. “Michelle, I think it’s best if you head home.”

Michelle opens her mouth to speak, only to be stopped - Ms. Potts saying, “Do you have a cell phone with you?”

Michelle nods, taking it out of her pocket only for her eyes to widen - seeing the dozens of missed calls from her parents and from a few numbers she didn’t recognize. 

She’d put it on silent the moment she’d gotten into the city, a small fit of rebellion and wanting to experience everything first hand and under strict orders from Peter to be mindful of her surroundings - something that made her laugh as if she couldn’t take care of herself.

Michelle’s phone rings again, her mother’s contact flying to the front of the screen - frowning at it before going to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Oh thank— where the  _ hell  _ have you been?” She hears her mother almost yell, wincing at Ms. Potts being able to hear her even if the woman seems preoccupied with whatever Mr. Stark is telling her on the phone.

“I—“ Michelle goes to say, only to get off.

“It doesn’t matter, you’re safe. I— come home, Michelle now.”

“Mom, I’m in the city. I can’t—“

“Now, Michelle.” She says, Michelle’s heart skipping a beat because of the emotion in her voice, hearing the waver of it - the kind of vulnerability that she’s not sure she’s ever heard before. 

“Michelle, you need to come home.”

“Why?” She asks, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as Ms. Potts stares at her with a sad expression on her face, Michelle clutching the phone tighter when her mother speaks.

“Come home, Michelle.”

“Mom. What’s going on?”

It’s silent for a beat, Michelle feeling like the world is moving in slow motion before her mother’s voice rings out again - her words shattering something deep inside her.

“Something happened to your friend— I can't believe you two had—“

“Mom.” Michelle says again, feeling rooted in place - her mother’s words echoing in her ears. 

“Something happened to Peter.”

* * *

Michelle doesn’t remember getting home, doesn’t remember much of being picked up from the train station - only vaguely recognized that her mother had both screamed and cried at her, her father holding the two of them tight before somehow shuffling them into the car to drive them home.

It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real - the empty, null void in the pit of her stomach growing larger and larger when her her eyes finally shifted to the Parker house.

It’s like a dam burst within her when she sees it, the words that her mother had said over the phone crashing over her again like she’d been punched in the gut - the car barely pulling to a stop in front of their house before she opens the door and bolts, barely hearing her parents yell after her. 

The ground is still wet and muddy, the air in the forest feeling claustrophobic as she runs - needing to see the truth with her own two eyes.

That a storm had come in just after she’d left, rattling the town and pouring down hard - a storm so fierce that school had been cancelled.

That Peter, her friend - her  _ only _ friend, someone she could barely admit to herself that she was starting to feel like more than a friend for - had run out to the treehouse to try and save the pictures she’d left behind - Michelle cursing the fact that she’d ever mentioned creating a portfolio of her work the day before she left.

That the treehouse, the place that had held some kind of magic in it - the place that for months had been their home away from home - had failed him, the old rope ladder finally snapping as he tried to carry everything down.

That Peter - kind, wonderful, _what were you thinking_ __ Peter - had fallen into the river below and drowned, her father mentioning that the cops thought he’d hit his head. 

Michelle’s lungs were on fire, her legs aching but she had to see it - couldn’t bear the possibility that this was true.

That Peter was gone. That Peter had died trying to save  _ her _ art.

When she finally reaches the clearing her heart leaps up into her throat, the police tape all around the area causing her to double over - hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

Distantly she could hear the footsteps behind her but all Michelle could focus on was the frayed rope ladder, her chest heaving as she started to fall to her knees - caught in her father’s arms as her shoulders started to shake, the sob she’d held in pouring out of her.

It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real - and yet there it was, Michelle’s heart aching as she sobbed.

All he had seemingly wanted was to protect her art, to keep it safe for her future - Michelle bitterly thinking back to the foolish hope she’d had the day before that her future would include Peter.

Michelle sobbed, the loss just barely starting to settle over her - wondering what she ever did to the universe to deserve to be treated so cruelly. 

* * *

“Come on, Michelle.”

Michelle follows in after her parents, her father’s gentle hand guiding her in as they make their way into the Parker home.

For all the time she’d spent with Peter, she hadn’t spent much time with his aunt May - wishing now that she had, if only to get away from the unbearable awkwardness she felt at being in a stranger’s home.

But it wasn’t a stranger’s, not really - Michelle glancing around, her heart feeling like it’s being ripped apart from all the pictures she sees.

It’s Peter’s - not just as of his face or of May’s, but his own photography - Michelle knowing she’d recognize his distinctive style everywhere.

Seeing  _ him  _ everywhere makes her want to turn around and start running, only for her father to continue to push her forward as they make their way past the well-wishers.

She sees May Parker in the corner, Mr. Stark whispering something to her - staring at the two of them as she tries to make sense of the past week.

It still didn’t seem real, like some terrible nightmare that she wouldn’t wake up from - expecting Peter to come in from across the corner, excitedly talking about some new photo he’d taken.

But he doesn’t - Michelle just standing there, only for May’s head to turn and see her - watching as something flickers across her face before she disappears.

Michelle wasn’t sure what she expected her reaction to be at seeing her but it hadn’t been that - inexplicably feeling like she’d been slapped across the fact even if there was a part of her that felt like she deserved it.

May Parker was right to be upset with her, to blame her, to hate her even.

If it hadn’t been for Michelle, for Peter’s foolish decision to try and save  _ her _ artwork, he would still be alive.

Michelle immediately turns away, wrenching her father’s hand off her - hearing her mother whisper something to her as she makes a beeline towards the door.

But she can’t take it, she can’t - already feeling like something was lodged in her throat as she takes the few steps she needs to leave.

“Michelle.” She stops in place at the voice who calls out, hearing some of the whispers around her stop when she turns - seeing May Parker holding something in her hands.

“May, I’m—“

May immediately rushes forward and envelops her in a hug, Michelle feeling frozen in place until she awkwardly wraps her own arms around her - seeing the confused looks of her parents until May leans back.

The grief in her eyes is overwhelming but she somehow manages to smile as she says, “I have something for you.”

Michelle blinks, her attention being drawn to the box in May’s hand - watching as May moves her hand to push her own hair behind her ear before continuing, an action that reminds Michelle so much of Peter.

“It’s— Peter actually got it for you, to celebrate your win.” May gives a watery smile, laughing slightly. “It was in his room, he was looking forward to celebrating when you came home.”

“I’m so sorry.” Michelle whispers, the guilt settling heavily on her chest as May shakes her head.

“He really liked you.” May says, Michelle unsure of what to say - if only because she could see how many people were staring at the two of them, even if May seemed completely focused on her.

“We’re so sorry for your loss.” She hears her mother say, Michelle glancing down to the box as May turns to her - her thumb gently running against the little bow that Peter had made.

Michelle doesn’t catch the rest of the conversation or really even when May says goodbye, suddenly being moved out of the house and towards her own - back in her living room before she can blink.

“Michelle—“

She turns and moves up the stairs to her own room, ignoring her parents and closing the door behind her - letting out a sob as she rests her back against the door.

Michelle both does and doesn’t want to open the gift, desperately wanting to know what Peter wanted to tell her but wishing even more that  _ he _ could’ve been the one to give it to her - knowing it was her own fault that he wasn’t there to do so in the first place.

She tries to swallow it down, lifting the box lid only for her face to fall when she sees what’s inside.

It’s a sketch pad, one of the nicest ones she’s ever seen - something Michelle can’t even begin to think how Peter paid for it.

But it’s enough to push over the edge, throwing it across the room as the sob she’d tried to hold back pours out of her - walking forward and moving to tear apart some of the sketches she still had around only to pause when she sees it, a picture that had been placed inside the sketch pad.

She sinks down to the floor and reaches for it, adjusting herself until she was sitting beside her bed - the tears running freely down her face as she stared at the picture.

It was of her, a candid of her while she had been sketching something that Peter had taken in the treehouse - one that she doesn’t even remember him taking, a reckless part of her wanting to rip it apart - the picture mocking her as a reminder that he wasn’t there.

She flips it around only to see his tiny scrawled handwriting, bringing it closer as she reads:

_ MJ, _

_ I know you hate pictures of yourself but I had to capture this. When you’re a famous artist and I’m still a wanna-be photographer, I can say that I knew you when. _

_ Besides, every artist should have a portrait of themselves too :) _

_ Peter _

Michelle doesn’t flinch when the door opens, anticipating her father’s voice only to be surprised when it’s someone else.

“Michelle?”

She glances up, seeing the torn look on her mother’s face - the door open but standing in place, seemingly unsure if she would be welcome.

“I’ll clean this up.” Michelle says absentmindedly, gesturing to the mess on the floor that had accumulated since Peter had died.

“I don’t—“ her mother begins, stopping herself. “I just wanted to see if you were alright.”

“What do you think?” Michelle replies, her voice thick as she closes her eyes. “I’m—“

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” Her mother says, immediately moving forward and crouching down beside her - surprising Michelle as she searches her face.

“I… I didn’t realize. I wasn’t—“ her mother seems confused about what to say, taking a deep breath. “Do you know why I’m so hard on you?”

Michelle blinks, completely disinterested and lacking the emotional bandwidth to dive into this particular conversation before her mother rushed forward.

“The world can be cruel to people like you. To people like your father.” She says, settling down beside her - tentatively pushing some of Michelle’s hair back. “I want you to have options in the world. To never feel like you have to be held back.”

Michelle still doesn’t know what to say, confused for where she’s going with this only to realize when she says, “I didn’t realize how important this was to you. How important  _ Peter _ was to you.”

“He was my friend.” Michelle says, her eyes shifting back to his handwriting - her mother’s hand moving towards her shoulder as she glances back up.

“I know that now.” She says meaningfully, as if she could possibly know how much Peter had meant to her in the little time she had with him - as if she could possibly understand how much Michelle had liked him, unsure of her own feelings and burdened with the understanding that she’d never have the chance to figure them out. 

“I’m sorry, for not knowing before. About any of it.” Her mother says, Michelle blinking back of the tears as she continues. “But I’d like to. If you’ll tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Michelle says, her voice unsteady as she continues to stare down at the picture Peter had taken of her - her hands still resting on where he’d written what was now his final message to her.

Her chin is lifted up, looking into her mother’s eyes - a kindness in them that she hadn’t seen in years. 

“Everything.” 

* * *

“You mind some company?”

Michelle glances up, seeing the tired and sad half-smile on Mr. Stark’s face, shrugging as she turns her attention back to the tree in the courtyard.

He sits beside her, resting his hands on his knees - Michelle feeling numb as the quiet sat between them.

It’d been a month since Peter died, since the best day in her life had turned into the worst - the loss of him still feeling like an open wound.

She couldn’t understand it - furious and devastated that Peter had died over something so stupid and insignificant, that the wide-eyed and excited boy that had been her closest friend even in the shortest amount of time - was gone.

And that he was only gone because of  _ her _ .

“I got a call from Ms. Potts the other day.” He says, Michelle still staring at the tree in front of her. “Said she’s been trying to reach you.”

Michelle grinds her teeth, hoping to swallow down the tears she feels building - hating that Peter had died and had seemingly taken all her walls with him, feeling emotionally on edge all the time as she says, “I have nothing to say.”

He’s quiet for a moment before sighing, Michelle closing her eyes when he says, “He wouldn’t want this, Michelle. He wouldn’t want you to—“

“He doesn’t  _ get _ to want, Mr. Stark. He’s dead. Dead people don’t  _ want _ anything.” She says, eyes snapping open as she glares at him - seeing the grief she feels so deeply mirrored perfectly on his face.

“Michelle—“

“He’s dead because of me.” Michelle’s voice cracks, the tears falling down her face before she can stop him. “It’s your fault. You should’ve never told him anything about me.”

Michelle instantly regrets the words the minute they leave her mouth, seeing the hurt and the guilt all over his face before he swallows it down as she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry—“

He puts a hand up, a sad smile on his face. “It’s okay. It’s— it’s okay.”

Michelle bites her lip, her jaw trembling as she says, “It’s not.”

Tony’s face cracks at that, Michelle hearing the bell ring as she closed her eyes, hearing his voice softly whisper, “No, it’s not.”

Michelle takes a shuddering breath, only to feel Mr. Stark’s hand pat her gently on the shoulder - bringing her head up as she searched his face. 

“I miss him too.”

Michelle nods at that, his hand awkwardly patting her shoulder again before he lifts it - sighing as he looked on at the tree. 

“But you’re wrong, kid.”

“Huh?” Michelle asks, quickly wiping away the tears as he says, “I didn’t tell Peter about you.”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes, shaking his head gently. “Peter’s the one who asked me about you.”

Michelle doesn’t know what to say about that, only for the warning bell to ring, watching as Mr. Stark gets up.

“It’s not your fault, Michelle. It’s a terrible thing, an awful—“ his voice cuts off, his next words thick. “An awful tragedy.”

Michelle stares at him as he looks at her, seeing the tears in his eyes as he continues, “But none of it was your fault.”

The warning bell rings again, Mr. Stark nodding towards it before going towards the classrooms - Michelle glancing over to the tree once more.

In her heart, she knew Mr. Stark was right. That it wasn’t her fault or his, that Peter had died in an accident - cruel, but an accident nonetheless - her mind thinking back to all the times Peter had mentioned that he’d used to go out there by himself in the three years he’d lived there.

She couldn’t make sense of it, but Michelle wondered if she ever would - her heart aching at the reality that for as long as she’d lived right beside Peter, she’d had less than six months to actually know him.

But those six months had been the best of her life, Michelle thinks - giving her more joy and more hope than she’d ever felt before, Peter’s encouragement towards her dreams inspiring her in ways she couldn’t have imagined.

Michelle missed him everyday, the bell ringing one more time as she stared at the tree - looking over to the empty space in the courtyard where he’d sat and stared at her, wondering to herself what had prompted him to talk to her in the first place.

It hurt to think that she would never know, that the daydreams she’d allowed herself to have would now never have the chance to become reality - pushing towards a future that Peter would never see.

Michelle takes a deep breath, grounding herself in the moment - a cool breeze gently passing over her as the sun broke out over the sky.

It was almost as if it was a sign, something Michelle knows is impossible but her heart leaped at all the same - the tree in the courtyard looking nothing like their treehouse and yet Michelle feeling the same way she did when she’d first seen it.

She exhales, her heart aching as she stood up - wishing with everything within her that Peter was still alive and well, that she could see him in class and then meet up with him at the treehouse.

She couldn’t - she knows she never can.

But as Michelle makes her way to physics class, glancing at the tree once more - she wonders if maybe Mr. Stark was right.

Peter wouldn’t want her to give up her dreams, wouldn’t want her to stop planning for the future. And even if she couldn’t reconcile the guilt she felt, couldn’t even begin to dream again about moving to a city now that would only ever remind her of Peter - Michelle could at least honor his memory the best way she knew how.

She’d never started creating portraits like she’d originally told Mr. Stark. 

But now, walking back to class - the weight of the sketch pad Peter had given her heavy in her backpack - Michelle felt determined to begin, to at least try. 

Peter had told her that artists needed a picture of themselves too.

Michelle already knew whose portrait would be the first she’d do.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to blondsak for reading over this for me! 
> 
> Also I wrote the entirety of this while listening to [All I Want by Kodaline](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=n6BwAWiHcSg) on an endless loop, in case you want a behind the scenes of how I was feeling for this.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


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